The universe is a form of divine law,
your reasonable father.
When you feel ungrateful to him,
the shapes of the world seem mean and ugly.
Make peace with that father, the elegant patterning,
and every experience will fill with immediacy.
Because I love this, I am never bored.
Beauty constantly wells up, a noise of springwater
in my ear and in my inner being.
Tree limbs rise and fall like the ecstatic arms
of those who have submitted to the mystical life.
Leaf sounds talk together like poets
making fresh metaphors. The green felt cover slips,
and we get a flash of the mirror underneath.
Think how it will be when the whole thing
is pulled away! I tell only one one-thousandth
of what I see, because there’s so much doubt everywhere.
The conventional opinion of this poetry is,
it shows great optimism for the future.
But Father Reason says,
No need to announce the future!
This now is it. This. Your deepest need and desire
is satisfied by the moment’s energy
here in your hand.